When I was 21, living in Chicago and studying at DePaul University, I became committed to a regular gym routine. Admittedly I was in the bright-eyed phase: excited to start something new and still enamored by the euphoria that comes with the fitness environment. 

At the DePaul gym in Lincoln Park, there was a trainer regularly around the gym who was known as Kedzie. To this day I am unsure if Kedzie was her name or a nickname; though, both in and outside of the gym people—who worked out at varying frequencies knew of Kedzie. 

Her name was synonymous with being strong willed and very opinionated. 

There were multiple times while I was at the gym, that with no warning she would yell from across the gym to tell someone that there was “no reason on Earth” they were throwing around the weights. “Lower the weights,” she barked. Or when, upon passing a pair of dumbbells idly sitting on a padded bench, she yelled out to shame the poor unsuspecting soul, who probably was then running to cower in the bathroom. I still to this day don’t set my weights on the bench, because it “breaks down the padding” as Kedzie advised.

My friends and I regularly joked outside of the gym that we worried about crossing her or being recipients of her cross-the-gym ire.

The Fateful Encounter

So, one day when I was doing seated cable rows, and I looked up to see Kedzie walking towards me with her eyes locked on me, I was as stunned as a deer in headlights.

My mind was clouded, my thoughts were racing. I quickly tried to take a mental inventory of what I could have done, so as to prepare myself not to crumble in the case that I needed to apologize.

What could I have possibly done to receive this attention? Was I going to be publicly shamed? But what for? 

“I see you doing cable rows,” Kedzie started as she arrived, in a surprisingly calm tone.

I nodded my head nervously, trying to keep eye contact.

“What’s your goal? Are you trying to build muscle?”

Again, I nodded, but this time cracking a slight, nervous smile.

“You know, you’re doing each rep a little quick. If you slow down, lower the weight a bit, and focus on the full motion, you’re more likely to get the results you’re looking for. Here.”

She motioned at the bench I was sitting on. I moved, she sat down and grabbed the cabled handle. 

As she pulled the handle toward the center of her chest, “Hold the weight here for five seconds.” She paused for 5 seconds, “Then, count to five as you let the weight back down.” As the stack of suspended weights clanked back down into the resting motion, she looked up to me and said “That’ll break down the muscle.” She nodded at me, got up and walked back to what she was doing.

The storm - even if in my mind - had passed as quickly as it had come. As Kedzie walked away, and I sat back down, the wake of my anxiety dissipated. I took a moment to recount what she had actually told me.

It is true, I really did want to grow muscle. And, given her role and the certainty in her voice as she counseled me, I thought, “What do I have to lose in following her advice?”

My path was forever altered

That day, that moment really did alter my whole perspective about resistance training: using weight at the gym to build muscle. 

I gave Kedzie’s advice a try and I immediately—within days—felt a change in the way that my muscles responded to my routine: they felt sore but also tighter. I quickly became more toned and started to see my muscles grow.

To this day, more than a decade later, I still hear Kedzie’s words distantly in my mind when I am at the gym. I focus on body posture and the full rotation of movement more than on the amount of weight I use. When I sense that I have loaded on too much weight to actually target the muscles I am supposedly working, I reduce the weight to a point where I still feel resistance but light enough so that I can focus on my muscle group I am training.

What I have come to realize all these years later is that Kedzie was really advising me to be present with the muscles I was training. With too much weight and erratic movement, it was hard for me to honestly say I was being aware of my muscles. 

But now, after listening and applying Kedzie’s unexpected but welcomed advice, I am able to feel an intentional connection with my body as I exercise.